


To Die by the Hand I Love So Well

by princehal



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Chris Hemsworth - Freeform, Incest, M/M, PWP, Porn Without Plot, Shameless PWP, Slight Masochism, Thor 2, Thorki - Freeform, Thunderfrost - Freeform, slight self harm trigger warning, the dark world, thor 2 the dark world - Freeform, tom hiddleston - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princehal/pseuds/princehal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Thor leans over his little brother, lies him out before him. Loki is oddly quiet, his trembling body compliant to his brothers will. His slender body is marked with soft, blooming bruises, blushing purple ink on a pale canvas. Thor doesn’t know, doesn’t want to know the extents to which Loki has silently been mutilating himself.  </i>
  <br/><i>He ducks his head, placing kiss after kiss on each discolored mark. As he pressed his lips to Loki’s neck, Loki sighs, slips his long legs around Thor’s waist, pulling their bodies closer, holding them together. Entwined, they lie, almost still, Thor’s body resting on Loki’s, two spent swimmers clinging together - a moment of reprieve in a battering storm.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Die by the Hand I Love So Well

It is said sometimes, to young children; to noisy girls and boys; unruly students and impatient youths, that silence is golden. It is upheld as a standard, as a thing to be attained, to be reached. Golden is better. Golden is royal. Golden shines proudly in the darkness, golden is a glimmer of hope, a smiling hero, a beautiful melody. Golden is good. And so the good little girls and boys across the realms seal their lips, nod dutifully, and await their promised share of glittering _good_. But those rules do not apply here. The silence is binding and resolute, but lacking entirely in good. There is nothing great to behold, here. This is a place for those who have been thwarted, those who have been cast low. And yet, with some hideous hint of irony, the clear walls of his gilded cage glimmer gold when struck, a sugary reminder of his captivity.

Inside his cell, the silence is poisonous. He is no stranger to solitude, yet this is different. No matter how quiet he is, no matter how still, he can’t catch even a whisper of sound from outside the walls of his prison. Instead of looking out, watching, he is forced to look in, to stare numbly back at himself in the glass. It’s too bright, too open. He’s the centre of attention, serving as both audience and performer.

His skin is papery to touch, and his own breath seems ragged and rough, and far too loud. Thoughts clamour for attention in his mind, beating against the inside of his skull, flicking before his dead eyes.  At first, he hardly moves, sitting cross legged on the floor, hands curled into loose fists, staring.  
He sees no one. No one passes through. No one needs to. Any prison that can contain him does not require the assistance of guards. The clothes he wears are coarse and unkind, and as time passes, his hair falls lank about his pale, pointed face. But for the empty thudding of his heart, he could have passed for dead.

* * * *

He jerks his head up. Had he- ? No. There was a noise, he hadn’t imagined it. And there, again - the sound of approaching footsteps, echoing through the chamber. They seemed so loud, so boastful, a part of him wanted to cringe away from this sudden invasion. He parts his cracked lips, runs his tongue across them. He has been starved of this, of stimulation, interaction; he is almost overeager.

A pause. Loki lets his breath slip slowly from his open mouth, curling and uncurling his long fingers. _Let them come._

"Brother"

It isn’t a question. It is cold, lacking in compassion, in feeling. The word is devoid of that which it infers, and it _twists_ somewhere in the pit of Loki’s stomach. The weeks of solitude were nothing, now. There had been, in the emptiness, a promise of this - and now there was nothing to wait for.   He laughs. The sound is alien to him, hollow and cracked and dry.

“Brother… if that is what you wish. I am, alas, in no position to argue”.

His eyes flick up, glancing at Thor. His blonde hair is pulled loosely back, falling down over his shoulders; his eyes piercing and sombre. He has forsaken his red cape, today, and is dressed instead in deep blue cloth and golden chain mail. He stands some few feet from Loki, tall and unflinching.

"I come to you, Loki, because I have no choice. If I did, I - "

"You would not trouble Asgard’s monster… do not sugar your speech on my behalf, brother dear”

Thor shakes his head, sighs. He turns half away, begins to pace the length of the cell.

"I do not have time for your games. I am here - I require something of you. Something I can get nowhere else"

"And what do I get in return?" Loki’s words are harsh, almost feral sounding. Thor pauses, looking down at his younger brother.

"This cell"

Loki raises his eyes to stare at Thor. They truly were polar opposites. Thor stood for Asgard, whole and so full of passion, whilst he knelt on the ground - defeated - sullied - wrong.    
He lets his head rest against the wall behind him, still staring at Thor. “You must be truly desperate, to come to me for help”.

Thor does not respond, does not move. The silence is taunting; has he waited, suffered this imprisonment to be met only with scorn and insult?

Barely suppressed rage stirs within him, and he almost stammers over his words as they spill from his lips. “And how, pray tell, do the rest of Asgard feel about letting their most loathed criminal free? Has father given you his blessing, is mother rejoicing? Or is this some mad notion fueled only by you, the golden son, standing alone - “  
 He stops, his breathing quick. “Forgive me - I forgot that anything that comes from your lips immediately has all the support you could ever need. Tell me - should I prepare for the celebratory feast straight away, or wait for your word?” His chin is flecked with spittle, his heart racing as it has not in weeks.

Thor still hasn’t moved, hasn’t responded. A muscle jumped once in his jaw, his mouth set in a hard line. He had strode into the cell under a guise, as the King of Asgard, but he is struggling, now, to maintain the facade. He speaks calmly, deliberately, holding himself together.

"If you agree to aid me, and we are successful in our enterprise then you shall not be harmed. I swear to you, I will not allow it. If you betray me - " Thor does not pause, does not move his eyes from Loki’s own. "I will kill you".

A hysteria bubbles inside of Loki, clawing at his throat, at his heart. He blinks, holds Thor’s gaze. He would not back away from this. “When do we start?”

Thor turns, begins to stride away. “On the morrow. I will send someone to release you, and then you will be brought straight to my chambers. I will explain then”. He is almost gone, it’s almost over -

"Thor?"

He sounded, in that moment, like a child again. Thor stops, stiffens. He looks back to where his brother sits on the ground, fragile and weary, and opens his mouth to say - something, anything, to get rid of this cold informality that lies between them; he wants to close the space between them and hold his little brother close to him, as he used to do when Loki, afraid, would stumble into his room at night and confess fears of monsters, and worse, and he steps forward -

"This is for her, isn’t it?" Loki’s voice is hard, cruel. His thin lips curve in a mockery of a smile, head tilted to one side. " _Jane_ ”.

Thor clenches one hand into a fist, closes his eyes briefly. “Do not speak of her”.

Loki’s laughter rings out again, echoing insidiously against the walls of his cell. “You do make me laugh, brother”.

"Goodbye, Loki". Thor is almost gone, pulling the door shut behind him. Loki has changed now, and it will do him no good to forget that. As if in agreeance, a mocking voice floats out after him.

"She must be an awfully good fuck for you to go to all this trouble. Or did you just get tired of your usual whores?"

It’s nothing but a taunt, a childish jibe. It is all Loki has to throw against him. Thor takes a deep breath, one hand still on the door. He breathes out slowly, calms himself. He can still walk away from this. He should walk away from this. And yet -

"I suppose she’s cheaper… Midgardians usually are, aren’t they? It’s almost odd, really - given that their expiry date is so much sooner than ours". Loki is laughing again, and the sound makes Thor feel sick. "Don’t worry though… I’m sure she’ll be easy to replace".

Too much. Thor turns, back into the cell, back towards Loki. He slams the door shut behind him, glaring down at his brother. His voice is angry now, and rough; if he was struggling before, his facade was all but gone.

"Do not think I will allow you to get away with all that you used to, Loki - I do not have my old patience and I will not - "

"Oh Thor, please! What will you do? You cannot kill me, if you desire my aid, and you’ve already locked me away. Don’t imagine you can control me, because you will only disappoint yourself" Loki is visibly trembling as he pushes himself to his feet. He half leans against the wall for support, and what little colour there had been drains from his face, his lips a harsh pink against his pale skin.

"Well? Threaten me all you want, but as long as you need me, I’ll say what I want about your pretty little bitch-"

Thor closes the space between them, his fingers closing around Loki’s throat, slamming him back against the wall. They are both breathing heavily, bodies pressed together, and Loki’s eyes look half mad, half terrified. He will not meet Thor’s glare, and his breath catches audibly as Thor moves closer, trapping him.

“Let go of me”, Loki hisses, and Thor can taste his words on the air between them, feel his brother pushing uselessly against him. Months of captivity have weakened him, and his skinny form protests aimlessly in comparison to Thor’s strength.  Breathing quick and fast, Loki twists in Thor’s grasp, hands pressing feebly against his chest as whispers into the shell of his ear.  
“Is this how you won her love? Did you catch her and fuck her against a wall, regardless of her will?”. Thor can hear him swallow, hear the hatred in his voice. “I will not bend so easily, brother”.

Thor tightens his grasp, feels a pulse trembling beneath his fingers. He tilts Loki’s head back, forcing him to meet his gaze. That his - his Loki could have become so weak, so belittled - his blue eyes pierce Loki’s own, searching for something, for anything. Loki’s breathing is truly ragged now, and his hands still scrabble pointlessly against Thor’s chest.  Something wells up inside of Thor; frustration, anger - he moves forward almost involuntarily, his leg slipping between Loki’s own, and a soft moan escapes from Loki’s parted lips.

His ashen cheeks are tinged pink, eyelids fluttering shut, and his long fingers cease in their pushing, instead clutching the fabric of Thor’s tunic.  “I hate you”. Loki murmurs quietly, eyes half closed, head resting on the wall behind. “I really do”.  
Thor swallows, his eyes glistening. He runs the pad of his thumb across Loki’s cheek, following the curve of his jaw.   “I - I know you do”. Only four words, but they cost in effort, jerked rudely from his mouth, marking a notch on his heart.  
“But we will always be connected, Loki. You cannot take that away”. _I will not let you take that away._

Loki’s breath hitches in his throat, and words spill unevenly from his thin lips. “I will find a way, brother. I will-“. Thor couldn’t hear this, not again, not more poison. Loki’s weapons were words, every time, and they stung again and again, and he wouldn’t stop, you couldn’t stop him from talking and that’s where he wove his lies, spun threads of villainy and deceit and if he just stopped for a moment then maybe - Thor crushes Loki’s lips with his own, silencing him, silencing his venom.

He can feel his little brother tensing beneath him, feel his fingers twisting in his tunic, pulling him in, forcing his body up against his own. The kiss is hard and rushed, the shadow of Thor’s beard rough against Loki’s skin. A muted gasp slips from Loki’s mouth as they part for air, his lips bruised and wet.  
 Breathing fast, Thor makes to step away, from this - but Loki still has hold of him, tugs imploringly on his clothes.  “Brother - I - please”. His eyes are watering, his composure all but gone.  
Thor lets his hands fall to grasp Loki’s shoulders, shakes him.  
 ”I can’t, Loki -” Loki shakes his head, hair falling across his face. His voice is low, trembling.  “No - brother, my brother, please” He glances up at Thor, looks quickly away again. His tone falls almost to a whisper, deplorably thin and hollow. “Please. Please. Thor. Thor, I - I need you”.

Thor feels as though his heart has stopped - it has been long, so long since Loki used his name. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. Loki gazes into his eyes, and Thor pauses, for a split second - can’t help himself.  
He presses himself against Loki again, kissing him harder than before, fiercer and rougher.   Loki’s body relaxes against his, and he moaned through their lips, his hands rushing to tangle in Thor’s golden hair.  
He tugs at Thor, pulling him in, further and further until their bodies are pressing together, hard and insistent.  Thor parts his lips, feels Loki’s tongue run across the corners of his mouth, feels his teeth nip dangerously hard. The taste of blood is sharp on his tongue, and something in the hollow of his stomach burns, and then his arms slide around Loki’s slender frame, pulling him away from the wall.

Gasping for air, their lips break apart. Loki is trembling, and Thor clings to him, holds his little brother to his chest. For one tremulous second, Loki’s eyes meet his.  
There is a hunger, there - born from eons of pain, and longing. Thor slides one rough hand up, cups Loki’s ashen face. “Loki-“  
Loki blinks; slides to the floor before him, long fingers easing Thor’s trousers down. Thor closes his eyes, a moan escaping from his lips, thought forgotten.

He can feel Loki’s breath against his bare skin, feel his fingers pressing into his hips. He tangles his fingers in Loki’s black hair, tugging impatiently, and Loki cries out, the sound echoing around the small chamber.  
His lips part, gentle hands guiding his brother between them. Thor groans, rolling his hips up as Loki opens his mouth wider, forcing him further down his throat, fingernails pressing into his flesh. Thor knows he will not meet his gaze again, will not share the untold depths that lie behind his green eyes.

He cries out involuntarily, pulling away from Loki’s delicate, terrible tongue, and moves to crouch before him, fingers stumbling to unfasten the thin strings of his brothers clothes.  Loki is still as Thor strips them away, until he reaches forward, deftly removing Thor’s cloak and shirt. There is a pause, and the silence is overwhelming, intimidating.

Thor leans over his little brother, lies him out before him. Loki is oddly quiet, his trembling body compliant to his brothers will. His slender body is marked with soft, blooming bruises, blushing purple ink on a pale canvas. Thor doesn’t know, doesn’t want to know the extents to which Loki has silently been mutilating himself.    
He ducks his head, placing kiss after kiss on each discolored mark. As he pressed his lips to Loki’s neck, Loki sighs, slips his long legs around Thor’s waist, pulling their bodies closer, holding them together. Entwined, they lie, almost still, Thor’s body resting on Loki’s, two spent swimmers clinging together - a moment of reprieve in a battering storm.

Loki’s breaths are long and deep, as though years have passed since he last rested. Occasionally a word catches in his throat, or seems to, as Thor slips a hand between his brothers legs, brushing his fingertips across his quivering hole.  Thor wishes that he could call this his - that in this, of all moments, Loki could exist without the pretense, the masks.  
But somehow, he is less Thor’s than he has ever been, and he continues to resist Thor’s gaze, resists caving to his gentle touch. He will not let Thor be there for him in any other way; only in the aching turns and twists of their bodies, on his knees, arching his back to meet Thor’s pressing thrusts.  

As Thor pulls him up, both on their knees now, Thor buried deep inside his little brother, Loki grabs Thor’s hand, pressing it against his own erection, leaning back into Thor’s body and choking out broken sentences.    
“Fuck me, brother”, he cries, his breath hot on Thor’s cheek. “ _Hurt me_ ”.

It comes, always, to this. To win, he must lose, so Thor acquiesces, despite the burning within him, hating to see his Loki debased so - but wanting to love, to care, in the only way Loki will allow, so he pushes Loki’s head to the floor, holding his hips and forcing his pliant ass further up, fucking him over and over, until tears spring into Loki’s eyes and he reaches, shaking, for his own leaking cock. Thor stops him; pins his hands to the ground above his head, body trembling.  
“No,” He leans forward, the weight of his body causing Loki to cry out. “Have patience”, he whispers, jerking his hips forward. He slips two fingers into Loki’s mouth, before muttering “ _Suck_ ”.

Loki’s tongue is deft and warm and slick, and Thor marks a trail of spit across his cheek as he pulls his hand away, resuming his thrusts once more. Loki keens beneath him, his body tense and trembling, and a barely suppressed sob escapes his lips as Thor pushes his fingers in beside his cock. Thor is almost without thought as he fucks his brother through his orgasm, filling him full of hot release. Loki presses his ass hard against Thor, riding through it with him, as Thor slips his hand round to move Loki to his own climax.

  Breathing hard, Loki trembles, his body collapsing onto the floor. Thor lies on top of him, chest pressing onto Loki’s bruised back, cock still warm inside him. Thor kisses Loki’s shoulder, whispering his name into his pale flesh.

“Brother… ”

Loki turns beneath him, curling into the heat of Thor’s body. Thor shifts slightly, holding his broken brother in his arms. Loki’s eyes flutter shut, and he sighs.

All else is forgotten. There will be time for other things and other people, tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. Thor doesn’t know when next he will hold Loki to him, and so he tightens his embrace, presses one final, aching kiss to Loki’s cheek. For now, this is enough.


End file.
